


i've had the time of my life (and i owe it all to you)

by levlinwinlaer



Category: Women's Hockey RPF, Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, PREATH - Freeform, Tattoo Shop AU, alex morgan is a brat and i stan her, also she's dating kessel, and JULIE WE LOVE JULIE, and incredible abs, everyone's a little bit in love with christen press, hilary knight plays captain marvel in this universe bc it's where she should be, so'hara, sonnett is a living legend with an alcohol problem, we LOVE the uswnt, what can i say i'm a bitch for a happy ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-07 12:59:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15908760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levlinwinlaer/pseuds/levlinwinlaer
Summary: It ends up being entirely Christen’s fault.If it wasn’t for Christen’s stupidly perfect face, Tobin would never have gone steady with a girl, and would never have scheduled an anniversary dinner at the same time as her regular shift, and would never have begged Kelley to cover that night, and Kelley would never have met the bunch of idiots that changed her life.or,Kelley O'Hara and Alex Morgan open a tattoo shop in Portland. The results are about as disastrous as you'd expect.





	1. the first meeting

**Author's Note:**

> first off i want to say that this is SONNETT'S WORLD and we're all just living in it  
> secondly this fic is narrated (though in second-person) by KELLEY O'HARA which means that she's halfway in love with every lady present  
> thirdly! if anyone says a WORD against christen press, i shall introduce them to my fist

It ends up being entirely Christen’s fault.

If it wasn’t for Christen’s stupidly perfect face, Tobin would never have gone steady with a girl, and would never have scheduled an anniversary dinner at the same time as her regular shift, and would never have begged Kelley to cover that night, and Kelley would never have met the bunch of idiots that changed her life.

 

Kelley barges into the Inkandescent Tattoo Shop at 8, setting a blueberry tart down on the front desk on her way in.

“Kell Bell!” Mal greets cheerfully, already reaching for the tart. “Oh my God, thank you so much. I’m starving.”

“No problem. Have you seen Moe?”

“She’s running a little late today. Should be here in fifteen or so.” Mal pops a corner of the tart into her mouth and sighs in satisfaction. “Oh, wow, this is good.”

“Seriously, no problem.” Kelley checks her watch. “I’m gonna get started on one of the designs. Is Alex in the back?”

“Yep.”

“Sweet. Thanks, Mal.”

“Anytime.”

Kelley wanders to the back, stripping off her jacket and tossing it on the nearest shelf. Alex is bent over a sheet of paper, scribbling away with her tongue between her teeth. She’s so engrossed in whatever she’s drawing that Kelley has ample time to lick a finger and stick it in her ear.

The way Alex yelps and jumps away more than makes up for the ass-beating she promises, so Kelley just giggles and vaults over a chair to avoid Alex’s wildly swinging fists.

“I’ll kill you!” Alex shouts, chasing her in circles around the shop. Mal ignores them, used to their bickering. Kelley picks up the nearest chair, laughing half-hysterically, and tries to fend her off. Alex, undeterred, grabs the legs of the chair and shoves Kelley back against the wall.

“Whoa, whoa.” Moe says, grinning from the doorway. “A party? Without me?”

Kelley regains enough control over her laughter to give Moe a serious look, though it’s slightly ruined by how she ducks away from Alex’s flailing hands.

“We have three rules here at Inkandescent,” she informs her. “One, I own this place, so no disrespecting me. Two, Alex co-owns, but we don’t need a rule about respecting her because she’ll punch you if you don’t. And three- don’t be late three days in a row.”

“You totally made up that last one,” Moe says, hanging up her jacket on the coatrack and tossing Mal a thumbs up. “Hey, Mal! Thanks for covering, you’re a gem.”

“I know,” Mal says, and waves. “Bye, Alex! Bye, Kelley! Enjoy the night shift.” The door closes behind her with a creak (Kelley should really oil up those hinges).

“Little shit,” Alex mutters, stalking over to her desk and sticking her earbuds back in.

“I heard that!” Mal shouts through the door.

Kelley sighs.

 

The first few hours are fine. A teenager comes in, looking very nervous, and holds up a crinkled piece of paper with a simple arrow design scribbled on it. Kelley takes pity on him and shoos Alex away, deciding that he probably can’t handle anything more than absolute calm. (She’s proved right by the way that he flinches at the whir of the tattoo gun.)

It’s an easy piece, and in the end it only takes a few minutes. Kelley turns off the tattoo gun and carefully wipes down his arm, reaching for the anti-bacterial ointment.

“It’s gonna be a little sore for a few days,” she tells him, methodically bandaging his forearm, “but don’t scratch at it. No public pools or exposing it to direct sunlight, either. Bandage comes off in two hours. Wash it carefully with soap and warm water, air-dry. I’ll give you one of these little moisturiser bottles-” she plucks one from the bowl that Moe keeps on the front desk- “and you apply moisturiser after washing it.”

“Okay,” he says, still a little pale. “Uh… should I come back after a few days?”

“Sure, if you want. Any of our artists can check it over for you.”

“Cool.”

“ _Very_ cool,” Alex echoes (somewhat sardonically) from the other side of the room, where she was exiled after “looking too pissy and scaring the clients”. Kelley shoots her a glare and mouths “grump”. Alex very maturely sticks her tongue out.

“Awesome. Thanks, Ms. O’Hara.”

Kelley winces. “Uh, yeah, sure. Anytime, dude.”

The door jingles on his way out, and Kelley slumps back in her seat. Alex snickers. Moe snorts from the desk, and pretends to be engrossed in an Excel spreadsheet when Kelley looks over.

“Shut up.”

“You got it, Ms. O’Hara.”

“Fuck off, Janice.”

“Love you too, Worms.”

Kelley sends a loving middle finger in her direction.

 

The trouble starts around eleven. That’s when the drunk college students start rolling in, fuelled by tequila and a deep-seated love of disappointing their parents. One of them (the second of the night) requests a tattoo of Thor’s hammer. Kelley is more than willing to oblige up until the part where he asks her if it’s possible to get his dick tattooed, and leers. Then Alex chases him out with her fists swinging.

By midnight, Kelley’s draped over the nearest chair with her hands wrapped around a coffee cup. She’s praying for the shift to end soon, wondering if she can sneak some of Moe’s fried chicken, when someone crashes into the door with a bang and a tinkling sound which Kelley _really_ hopes isn’t the shattered remnants of her door.

“It’s a pull door,” Moe calls from where she’s sitting with her feet propped up on the counter. There’s a muffled curse, and then the door opens (delivering a gust of cold air) and three girls come staggering through. One of them is incredibly tall, very blonde, and swaying dangerously. The other one is tiny and looks like she’s twelve. The last one is wearing a partially-undone shirt and is very very cute even if she looks like she’s had more tequila in one night than Christen had in her entire collegiate career.

“Hey,” Tiny One drawls to Moe, waving in an over-exaggerated motion that tips her over and right into a seat.

“Hi yourself, Rose,” Moe responds, looking amused. “Back again as usual, huh? And no Lindsey, either. How much beer did she have tonight?”

“God, so much,” Rose says, her cheek still pressed into the seat of the chair. She arrays herself more comfortably over the arms of the chair, and flings out her arms in an approximation of just how much beer “Lindsey” drank. Unfortunately, all she does is smack Tall One in the stomach. Tall One overbalances so slowly it’s hilarious, arms windmilling, and eventually gives up on staying upright, flopping onto the linoleum floor with a sigh.

Moe cackles. Kelley is mostly praying that Tall One isn’t dead. Insurance policies are a bitch for this kind of stuff.

“Hey, Toby!” Cute One says, spinning around. She spins too far and ends up squinting at Rose. “No, you’re not Toby. Where is she? Moe?”

“Tobin’s out,” Moe says. Cute One pouts exaggeratedly, bottom lip wobbling. “She’s on a date with Christen.”

That makes Cute One jump- yes, actually, jump- for joy, beaming. “Really? Aww. That’s so cute. I love Chrishten.”

“Christen,” Moe corrects.

“Chrishten.”

Kelley snorts- she can’t help herself. Cute One whirls at the sound, eyes fixing on her.

“Whoa,” she breathes out, taking a stumbling step closer. “Moe, who’s that?” Her voice drops into a whisper that’s still loud enough to hear. “Is that a _model_?”

Kelley laughs, preening a little. (And blushing, but she wouldn’t admit that on pain of death.)

“No, that’s Kelley,” Moe tells her. “Total bitch.”

“Hey!” Kelley protests. “I’m your boss. Watch it.”

“Okay, okay. She’s an _artist_.”

“Oh,” Cute One says, drawing it out for a while. “A tattoo artist?”

“Yep.”

In four stumbling strides, Cute One is just a foot from Kelley, the scent of tequila and some vanilla-peachy perfume wafting off her.

“I want a tattoo on my tummy,” she demands cheerfully, and yanks up her shirt, inadvertently giving Kelley an eyeful of what is literally _the_ best sixpack she’s ever seen.

“Whoa, tiger,” Kelley says hastily, the tips of her ears turning red. “Uh, no nudity in my tattoo shop, please.”

“Here,” Cute One says, completely ignoring her and lifting the shirt higher to poke at her own (incredibly defined) abs. “Right here. I want- uh, what’s your name again?”

“Kelley,” she squeaks out in a strangled voice, attempting (and failing) to move her eyes skyward.

“Okey dokey,” she says, and then arranges her face into a very serious expression (and Kelley thinks, ‘is this girl even real?’). “I want your name right here. On top of my belly button. Because you’re _very_ hot and I want you to be on me forever.”

“Sexy,” Tall One comments into the floor.

“I know, right?” Cute One exclaims, breaking her serious expression to shoot Tall One a pair of sloppy finger guns.

“Hey!” Alex glowers from across the room, pissy as usual about not being the centre of attention. “Can you drunks get tattoos or leave? We have customers.”

Even Rose summons up enough sobriety to look around the empty shop and give her a deadpan stare.

“Aw, Alexandra,” Moe coos, tossing a Sharpie at her. “It’s okay, you’ll get laid soon.”

“I own you. I’ll make all of you pay.” Alex glares at all of them and then stalks to the backroom.

Cute One, undeterred, gives Kelley a beam, hands dropping to her hips. “So,” she says, looking Kelley up and down with an appreciative eye. “You wanna make out?”

Kelley chokes on her own tongue, cheeks suddenly flaming red. “Uh-”

“Okay, okay,” Moe says, hustling over and grabbing Cute One by the shoulders. “Time to go. Get some rest. Come back and flirt when you’re not about to pass out.”

Cute One pouts, but lets herself be pulled away. Tall One groans into the floor, and rolls over, holding up her arms. Moe grabs her by her wrists and yanks her upright in a clearly-practiced motion. Rose, meanwhile, slides right off the chair, her fall just barely broken by Cute One, who picks her up in a fireman’s carry, stumbling slightly.

“Bye, Moe,” she slurs, sing-song. “Bye, ‘Lex.” She turns, her eyes focussing on Kelley. “Bye, Kelley.”

“Bye,” Kelley says, still a little red.

With one last wave (and one last clumsy wink at Kelley), the three drunks depart.

Kelley bends her head over the nearest piece of paper and tries very very hard to ignore the two stares boring into the side of her head.

“What?” she snaps, after a few minutes of snickering.

“Nothing, boss,” Moe says, snapping out a salute.

Kelley narrows her eyes. “Go back to work.”

“Hey! I’m working.”

“No, you’re not. You’re literally never working. I pay you to sit here and creep on models on Instagram.”

“Damn right, co-boss,” Alex chirrups, looking significantly more cheerful now that Kelley’s been semi-publically humiliated, and delivers a hard smack to her ass.

 

Oh, she is so murdering Christen tomorrow.


	2. round two's on me, boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> look...... tierna davidson got hurt today and i am ALL UP IN ARMS abt it..... love u t get better soon  
> also this is mostly set in the tattoo shop except for later chapters AND ash + ali finally showed up!!!! yay!!!!

Two days later, Kelley’s back on her usual shift, and Christen- fucking _Christen_ \- shows up, looking unfairly good in yoga pants, and hands Kelley a gift basket.

Kelley pushes her rolly chair back, looks up at Christen, and sighs. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Christen says cheerfully. “I brought you the Springtime Sunshine Edible Arrangement from Dulcinea’s!”

Kelley drops her face into her hands and groans.

“Look, they made chocolate-covered strawberries,” Christen continues, undeterred. “And I even asked them to carve a cantaloupe in the shape of a squirrel!”

“Stop talking,” Kelley pleads. “Oh my God. This is like a hundred-dollar edible arrangement.”

“Yeah, but it was worth it for you!” Christen beams. _Ugh._ Kelley’s so in love with her. (But everyone’s in love with Christen, so whatever.)

“Jesus. I don’t even know how you can afford edible arrangements. What do you do all day, sing Kumbaya to cancer patients?”

“Yes. It’s a very high income bracket,” Christen says solemnly, and then breaks into a radiant smile. “Actually, thank you so much for covering for Tobin’s shift. I know it was short-notice, but you’re amazing.”

“Christen, seriously. Shut up. It was no problem.”

“Okay, okay!” She leans in closer, conspiratorially. “Did you meet Tobin’s regulars?”

“Regulars?” Kelley plays dumb, but she has a sneaking suspicion that she knows exactly who Christen’s talking about.

“Four girls,” Christen explains, beaming. “They’re usually drunk, but they’re sweethearts. Two of them are blonde and really tall, one of them is really tiny, and one is normal-sized. Do you know them?”

“Yeah, I think they came in,” Kelley says.

“Oh, you _bet_ they came in!” Moe interjects. “Press, you’re not gonna believe this. Sonnett- the normal-sized one- hit on Kelley.”

“No way!” Christen looks appropriately scandalised, and very tickled. Kelley contemplates banging her head against the table until she passes out.

“Yes! And you know what? Kelley was _into it_.”

“Well, I believe that,” Christen says thoughtfully. “How drunk was she?”

“Less than usual. Or, at least, less than she was when you two met.”

“That was less than usual?” Kelley asks.

“Yep. Sonnett’s usually a shot of vodka away from alcohol poisoning. You got lucky, my friend.”

“Bet you wish you got luckier, though,” Christen adds, looking absurdly proud of herself. Moe high-fives her with a cackle. Kelley slides off her chair and shuffles under Alex’s desk, deciding that she’s better off not hearing any more of this conversation.

“Okay, well, I’ve got to get going,” Christen says apologetically. “Bye, Kell!” There’s a shuffling sound- a hug- and then the sound of the door swinging shut.

“You can come out now,” Morgan says cheerfully.

“I’m firing you,” Kelley informs her.

Moe just laughs. _Bitch_.

 

\--

 

The next day, Tobin comes to her with a sheepish expression and a hand scratching at the back of her neck, and Kelley already knows. Oh, she _knows_.

“Christen put you up to this,” she says, pointing a finger.

Tobin opens her mouth, reconsiders, and closes it again, nodding once.

“You are so so whipped, and so so fired,” Kelley says.

Tobin grins. “Cool.”

“Are you not even afraid of my firing powers anymore? I do own this place, you know.”

“You wouldn’t fire me,” Tobin says with a shrug. “The closest you ever got to firing someone was when Mal accidentally spilled ink on Ashlyn’s shirt and panicked and started crying, and then you tried to fire Ashlyn for making Mal cry.”

“Okay, in my defence, I forgot Ashlyn was a customer, and Mal was _sniffling_! I can’t handle that shit, Tobs. Have you ever seen Mal cry? No. You would do the same.”

“Right,” Tobin says, in a voice which screams ‘you’re over-invested in the lives of your coworkers’. “So, you’ll cover for tonight?”

“Tonight? Christen’s getting presumptuous about how much shit I’m willing to take.”

“You love her.”

Kelley sighs, slumping in defeat. “I do love Christen. And I do love your beautiful sexy relationship which I am so glad to be a part of, vicariously.”

“So what I’m hearing is you won’t be mad if you walk in on us making out in the backroom?”

“Again?” Kelley fires back. “No, I won’t be mad. I’ll be _furious_. Don’t disrupt the sanctity of my workplace and spiritual home, Tobin Heath. Not even with your fantastically talented funny smart  _and_ gorgeous girlfriend who you somehow managed to land while dressing like a hobo.”

“I call it a street casual look,” Tobin says primly, and leaves.

 

So Kelley’s back on the night shift.

 

“Don’t even start with me,” she warns Moe as she stomps through the door. Moe closes her mouth, but her smirk doesn’t waver. Alex, unfortunately, has no such qualms.

“Back for more, O’Hara?”

“Shut up, _Morgan_. I don’t even know why I have to be here.”

“Because you want to see the drunk again.”

“Do _not_.”

“Do too.”

“Don’t you have work to do or something?”

Alex mellows out a little. “Yeah, Ash is scheduled for an appointment in a few minutes. I think she’s bringing Ali, too.”

“Krieger?”

“Duh.”

“Hey, what crawled up your ass and died today?”

Alex sniffs. “Shut up and go draw something, loser.”

Ashlyn shows up a few minutes later with Chipotle and a cortado with whole milk.

“Ashlyn, I’m literally in love with you,” Kelley tells her. Ali, who has an arm around Ashlyn’s waist, just laughs.

“She means it,” Alex says, stealing a burrito out of the takeout container and taking a savage bite.

“Kell says stuff like that too often to mean it,” Ali points out. “I heard her tell Tobin two weeks ago that she was madly in love with Christen and would never find another.”

“And I stand by that one hundred percent,” Kelley chimes in. “Have you _seen_ Christen? Look at this.” She pulls out her phone and shows her lockscreen to the admiring horde. There’s a moment of silence as everyone processes that face.

“Damn,” Alex says eventually.

“She’s got you beat, Morgan,” Kelley says, smacking Alex’s ass with her sketchbook.

“Shut up. No one’s got me beat.”

Moe snorts. “Yeah, right.”

“Christen never got thrown out of Epcot for getting drunk,” Kelley adds.

“And she never had an embarrassing nose ring.”

“And she never-”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Alex interrupts. “And the Epcot Incident was bullshit, by the way.”

“Amen, sister,” Moe, who also got kicked out of Epcot, says, high-fiving her.

Alex waves them all away so she can work on Ashlyn’s sleeve, and Kelley starts up an enthusiastic game of Go Fish with Ali and Moe. Which she loses. Multiple times. (Not that it was a fair fight, at all. Moe cheated. And Ali's unfairly hot and very distracting.) It takes about half an hour until Kelley throws the deck of cards at Moe's smug stupid face and retreats to the backroom to lick her wounds.

Kelley sulks until Ash and Ali leave, and then re-emerges to steal from Moe's stash of macarons (which Moe resents deeply). She's just managed to get her fingers around a strawberry one when the nearby church tolls midnight.

And the idiots come in.

 

“Hi!”

Rose looks significantly less drunk this time, which is nice. She bounces over to Moe, jumping up to sit on the front desk.

“Rose Lavelle! Is the Great Horan back in action?”

“Oh, you bet!”

As if on cue, another tall blonde girl stumbles through the door, supported by Tall One. She groans at the bright lights, and falls over one of the chairs in the waiting area.

“And so is Sonnett,” Rose says, and then adds, “barely.”

A loud thump breaks the waiting silence. Moe cackles, pushing the door open.

“Hey, Sonn,” she says. There’s an indistinct grumble. “You ready to come in or are you just going to lay there all night?”

Another grumble.

“What?”

“That’s what she said,” Sonnett murmurs, and then with a great heave, she topples inside, the door swinging shut behind her.

“Whoa, whoa,” Tall One cautions drunkenly, reaching out a hand to help. Sonnett’s out of reach, though, so she just sways for a moment, and then lets her hand drop back to her side.

“Don’t worry, ‘m all good,” Sonnett slurs. “I… I’m so good. I’m Gucci, baby. Is this the floor or the ceiling?”

“Floor.”

“Gravity,” Sonnett sighs. “What a bitch.” She rolls over and starfishes, limbs splaying out. “Do you ever, like, wish you could fly?”

“Vapid.”

“What?”

The Great Horan lifts her head and stares blearily at Sonnett. “You. You’re vapid.”

Sonnett frowns. “Pardon?”

“Dumb. You’re dumb.”

“Shut up, Linds,” Sonnett says, and lets her head drop back onto the floor.

 _Why does someone always end up on the floor,_ Kelley wonders.

After a moment, Sonnett looks over, squinting up at Alex.

“Hi,” she says.

Alex looms over her and smiles in a way which is scary if you don’t know Alex and terrifying if you do. Evidently, Sonnett’s too wasted to be afraid, because she just smiles sleepily up at Alex, mumbles something that might be ‘I love you,’ and lets her cheek fall against the floor.

That’s when she locks eyes with Kelley.

“Oh!” she exclaims, lighting up. “Part-time model Kelley!”

“Hi, drunkie,” Kelley says, endeared despite herself. “What’s popping?”

“You are!”

“Holy fuck, are you guys in love?” the Great Horan asks, pointing an accusing finger.

“Yes,” Sonnett says confidently. “We are… so in love.”

“Oh!” Tall One pipes up. “Can I be your wedding person?”

“It would be, like, my whole pleasure, Sammy.”

“Aw. Love you too, Sonny.”

“Thanks, Sam.”

“Mm-hm.”

Sonnett turns back to Kelley, holding out a lazy hand. “Help me up,” she demands, and it’s so cute that Kelley decides to indulge her.

Sonnett’s hand is warm, her fingers delicate and strong. She grips Kelley’s fingers firmly and basically yanks herself to her feet, putting way too much energy into it and sending her toppling right into Kelley’s arms. Like a fucking damsel in a Nicholas Sparks novel.

She smells good, is Kelley’s first thought. Even if she’s a hundred-something pounds of twitchy dead weight, and Kelley’s kind of been skimping on gym visits recently.

Sonnett pulls back a little and looks up at Kelley. “Hi,” she says, kind of shyly, which is weird.

“Hi, yourself,” Kelley responds.

Sonnett giggles, swaying. “You’re so hot.”

Kelley turns pink. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Anytime.” Her eyes flutter closed as she leans in, their foreheads touching. Kelley can taste the tequila on her breath and she can smell the clean scent of her shampoo and she has so many freckles Kelley can’t even count them and to be honest, she’s not exactly sure what to do.

“Kiss, kiss, kiss,” Rose whispers loudly, crossing her fingers and totally ruining the moment.

Instead, Sonnett turns slightly green, pushes at Kelley’s shoulders, and sprints outside to vomit. Loudly. The moment is more ruined than Kelley’s- well. Nevermind.

“Hey, at least she took it outside the shop,” Alex remarks, and goes to check on her.

The rest of the drunks stumble out after Alex, Rose pouting disappointedly and the Great Horan making ‘I’m watching you’ jabbing signs at Kelley. Sam smiles at her cheerfully until Lindsey delivers a elbow to her gut, and then she tries to glare. Unsuccessfully. She looks like an angry baby giraffe.

“I’m good!” Sonnett calls from outside. “I’m all- oh, shit, hold my hair, Rose-”

God, Kelley is _fucked_.


	3. the third time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> v sloppy but that's the way i roll my loves

For some reason, a terrible awful morning person (Kelley) decided that the shop opens at 10 in the morning on a Saturday. And because Alex hisses like an angry raccoon if you wake her up before eleven on weekends, Kelley’s given the unfortunate job of opening up. The only redeeming factor is Mal, who shows up with coffee and a sympathetic ear.

“And then Christen shows up with an edible arrangement!”

“Was it more than fifty bucks?”

“God. It was like, a hundred-thirty.”

“No way.”

“I know. What does Chris even do for a living?”

Mal shrugs. “Dunno. I don’t even think Toby knows. Press never talks about it.”

“She’s probably a CIA agent,” Kelley mutters, and then jerks upright. “Oh my God, she’s a criminal.”

“What?”

“She’s clearly a wanted criminal. White-collar, or something. Steals from the rich, gives to the poor. There’s no way she could have this much free time to fuck with me and still make enough money to give people hundred-dollar edible arrangements.”

“And the phone calls!”

“Yes! The phone calls! She just leaves in the middle of a conversation to talk on the phone for five minutes and then comes back looking like the cat that got the cream! What’s she talking about? All of these business things! Oh my- Mal! Press runs an illegal dog sanctuary.”

Mal pauses. “Hm. Work on that theory a little.”

“Right,” Kelley says, and flops back down, nearly knocking over her cortado. She blows out a long sigh and pulls out her phone, tapping out a text to Tobin.

“So,” Mal says in a suspiciously cheerful voice.

Kelley’s head snaps up. “What?”

Mal attempts to lean casually on the counter, giving Kelley a vaguely constipated, very devious smile. “What’s this I hear about you and Sonnett?”

Kelley throws her phone at her. Mal (damn college athletes and their reflexes) snatches it deftly out of the air.

“What?” she coos, wiggling her eyebrows. “Hiding something, boss?”

“You talked to Moe, didn’t you?”

“Wrong. Alex.”

“Fucking bitch,” Kelley mutters.

“So what’s all that about, huh?”

Mal, her one and only, the only one who she thought would never betray her. Kelley resists the urge to scream.

“It’s nothing. She came in, flirted, went on her way.”

“And then came back.”

Kelley’s actually going to kill Alex. Like, seriously. She pictures writing the epithet with a grim sort of satisfaction.

“Yes. And then she left.”

“Are you going to see her again?”

“Mal, we’re not-” Kelley sighs. “We’re not dating, okay? She’s just drunk. Probably looking for a good time, or a reason to disappoint her parents.”

Mal stares at her silently. Kelley squirms.

“What?”

“You really don’t know anything about Sonny, do you?”

“Well, no?”

“That’s what I thought.”

Kelley squints. “Am I missing something? You’d tell me if I was missing something, right?”

“Oh, look!” Mal all-but shouts, sprinting behind the counter. “Customer’s here.”

 

The customer is a girl- a cute blonde one- who makes surprisingly friendly conversation as Kelley sketches out a pair of angel wings on her shoulder blades, with a bullseye between.

“So, what’s this tattoo all about?” Kelley asks, tugging on her gloves.

“Well, there’s, uh-” she falters, and then noticeably squares her shoulders. “I, um, I’m getting married next month.”

“Oh, sweet. Who’s at the end of the aisle?”

“I, uh, her name’s Sam,” the girl says in a rush, looking up and  _daring_  Kelley to say anything. Kelley just smiles reassuringly.

“She’s a lucky girl, Nikki.”

Nikki relaxes. Mal meets Kelley’s eyes over her shoulder and offers her a grin.

“The wings are for the wedding?”

“Yep.”

“And the target?”

“Oh,” Nikki says, laughing. “Well, it’s a thing between us. We have a running joke about hitting the bullseye.”

“That’s cute. Alright, I’m starting up the tattoo gun. It shouldn’t hurt too much, but if it does, just scream.”

Nikki cracks a grin. “You got it.”

 

Half an hour later, Kelley finishes up and goes through her aftercare spiel, relieved to have someone listen carefully for once.

“And good luck with your wedding,” she tacks on the end.

“Yeah, of course.” Nikki fiddles with her phone. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Do you know Sonnett? Emily Sonnett?”

Kelley chokes. Mal cackles.

“Yes,” she gets out. “We’re acquainted.”

“Oh, good, cause she was talking about you last night.”

“Last night?”

“Yeah, she was super wasted. But she went on and on about how if I was going to get the tattoo I  _had_ to go to this part-time model-slash-artist. I wasn’t entirely sure if you were her, but I guess this proves it.”

Kelley blushes fire-red. “Oh. She said that?”

“Yeah,” Nikki says, watching her carefully. “So here I am.”

“Uh,” Kelley draws out, drumming her fingers on the table, “how do you guys know each other?”

“Sam works with her. She’s a hell of a girl.”

“Seems like it.”

Nikki gives her a small but knowing smile. “Good luck with that.”

“Um. Thanks?”

“Anytime.”

Nikki leaves a 150% tip, and winks at Kelley on the way out. Mal doesn’t even bother hiding her smirk.

 

“What the fuck?” Kelley bursts out, as the door closes behind Nikki. “Why the hell does  _everyone_  know Sonnett?”

“Oh, Kelley,” Mal says, sounding far too condescending for someone who still wears Velcro shoes. “Maybe if you talked to anyone except your coworkers, you would know.”

“Why are you so mean to me?”

“Why do you not have a social life?”

“I do,” Kelley protests.

Mal sets her hands on her hips and gives Kelley her ‘Mom Look’. “Who was the last person you talked to who didn’t work here?”

“Christen.”

“Or dating someone who works here.”

“Uh. Fred the barista from Alistair’s?”

“Get a life, Kelley,” Mal tells her. “Meet some hot local singles in your area, et cetera.”

“Shut up, you’re like twelve.”

"Yeah, twelve inches deep in-"

Kelley hastily fixes her with a glare. "Don't finish that sentence if you want to keep your job."

Mal (albeit reluctantly) shuts her mouth, thank God. Kelley doesn't think she could have ever looked her in the eyes again after hearing that.

 

Christen sends Kelley a text at exactly 8 PM. She's curled up in bed with pajamas on, fully prepared to do absolutely nothing but watch TV and eat pastries, when her phone buzzes and she's hit with a sudden sense of foreboding.

'Hi! :D Just wondering if you'd like to take the night shift tonight! Tobin and I are going out on the town and we're taking Alex with us.'

'Fuck you,' she types out, also somewhat insulted at not being included, and clicks send with a sort of helpless vindication.

Christen just sends back a winky face. And then, 'I'd have to ask Tobin first.'

Kelley falls off her bed. It's not the most graceful moment of her life.

'I hate you!!!!!'

God, she needs to get laid.

'So is that a yes on the night shift?'

Kelley leaves her on read out of spite as she pulls on her jeans.

Another night shift it is, then.

She really hopes Sonnett doesn't come in.

(No she doesn't.)

(Ugh, she's talking to herself in parentheses again. The insanity is kicking in early.)

 

"Don't talk to me," she says on the way in, not even bothering to look at Moe's expression of sheer glee. "I'm serious. Talk to me and you're fired."

"Sonnett, Sonnett, how deeply doth my heart sing for thee," chirps a voice. Alex. On speakerphone. That fucking  _bitch_.

"Excuse me," Kelley shouts, doing an abrupt 180 and swiping Moe's phone out of her hand. "Alexandra Patricia Morgan, we are no longer friends. Never speak to me again or we will have  _beef_ , and I mean beef. Do you understand? Beef. Because you know what's happening? I am finally giving in to my knowledge and instinct that Berkeley bitches are lying, cheating scumbags. We are  _over_."

A pause.

"Damn, who got your goat, Worms?"

Kelley blows out an angry breath and plops herself down into a chair. "Why would you tell Mal about Sonnett?"

"It's funny, dumbass. And she works here, too."

"Yeah, but it's, like, you know. Not a thing."

"Not a thing," Alex mimics. "Sure. Then why are you on the night shift?"

"Because Christen dragged my two other artists out on the town."

"Right, but who gives a shit? This isn't McDonald's. We don't have to stay open to exactly the same time every night. Just shut it down for the night and leave early."

"I can't," Kelley protests.

"Really? Okay, sure. Name one reason."

"Moe," Kelley says lamely.

"Don't bring me into this couples' fight!" Moe shouts.

"Just admit it," Alex says, a little quieter. "You do want to see her again, huh?"

"Like, a little bit. I don't know. It's just fun to have- well, I don't know. She's sweet."

"And gay. And pretty obviously interested."

"Yeah."

"Just roll with it, okay? For now, or until you decide you're okay without it."

"Roll with it." Kelley thinks for a moment. "I can do that."

"Sweet. Pizza tomorrow night?"

" _Please_. Your place or mine?"

Alex hums. "Mine. I'll make margaritas if you bring the margherita."

"See what you did there." The doorbell jingles, and Kelley looks up. "Oh, someone's coming in. Bye, Janice."

"Bye, Worms. Love you."

"Love you too."

The new customer is a girl who walks in, takes one look at Kelley, and mimes swooning. Moe giggles.

“Hi?” Kelley asks.

“Oh my God, you _are_ hot,” the girl says. “I thought Sonnett was joking.”

Kelley blinks. “I- what?”

“Hi!” says the girl, who is admittedly also pretty hot, and sticks out a hand to shake. “I’m Crystal, Crystal Dunn.”

Kelley numbly shakes her hand, still not entirely sure of what’s going on.

“Oh my God, I have to text Julie about this. Give me a second.” She whips out her phone and fiddles with it for a moment before turning it around and shoving it in Kelley’s face. “Jules, look at her!”

“Oh, wow,” says the blonde girl whose face is currently right up in Kelley’s. “Is that Sonnett’s crush?”

“Yes! Can you believe?”

“Actually, yeah.” Julie grins. “Hi, I’m Julie Ertz. So nice to finally meet you, though it’s not exactly face to face.”

“Uh, you too?”

“Oh, we’re blindsiding her a little, huh,” Crystal says thoughtfully, then pockets her phone, shakes Kelley’s hand enthusiastically (again), and bounces out.

Moe looks at her, snickers, and goes back to texting.

 

They come in earlier than before, at around eleven. Rose crosses the threshold draped over Sonnett’s back, giggling and waving her hands in front of her face. Sonnett looks chipper and not at all sober.

“Kelley!” Sonnett sings, dropping Rose unceremoniously on the floor and making a beeline for Kelley’s general direction. She grabs both of Kelley’s hands in hers and dances her around the room, surprisingly coordinated for someone dead drunk.

“Oh, whoa,” Kelley says as Sonnett spins her around the chairs. “You’re- slow down a little there.”

Sonnett stops spinning her and instead _actually picks her up_ , bridesmaid-style.

“Holy shit,” Moe laughs, camera aimed at Kelley’s face. She glares, but Sonnett buries her face in Kelley’s hair and turns and _wow_. That’s a lot of upper-body strength.

“Kelley!”

It’s Lindsey, looming fierce and totally uncoordinated in their waiting room. She points at Kelley, looking very threatening.

“I challenge you,” she slurs, “to a duel. I’ll, uh. I’m her knight. You’re- um, you’re, like, contesting her.” She pauses. “No, that’s not- not the word. Sam, help me out.”

“Contaminating,” Sam offers from the doorway she’s leaning _very_ heavily on.

“Contaminating! You’re- poisoning her virtue. That is-” she hiccoughs- “unacceptable. I will not accept this. I cannot. You are- I have known this bitch for seventeen years. SEVEN. TEEN. Do you know how many teens that is? Seven. That’s a long time.” Lindsey pauses to take a long swig from the beer bottle in her fist, and then shatters it dramatically on Moe’s counter, pointing the top of the bottle in Kelley’s direction.

“Oh, shit,” Moe says.

 _Shit_. Kelley taps Sonnett’s (very strong and defined) arm. “Let me down,” she asks, and Sonnett complies with an easy motion.

“I’m not gonna let her get hurt,” Lindsey says, suddenly dead serious. It’s not as funny when the shards of glass are glinting in her hand. “I’ll kill you with my bare hands before I let that happen. Capiche?”

“Capiche,” Kelley says, still watching the bottle warily. Behind her, Sonnett lets out a sigh and leans on Kelley’s back, a hand falling on her waist.

“She’s fine, Linds,” Sonnett says drowsily, her breath tickling Kelley’s neck. “She’s a good egg.”

“Okay,” Lindsey says, looking unconvinced, and then, “oh shit. Where’s my beer?”

“You broke it, dummy,” Sam drawls out. “On the counter.”

“Oh. Can I get another?”

“No,” Moe cuts in. “I’m cutting you off. Here, I’ll call you an Uber. Go home and sleep it off.”

“Thanks, Moe.” Lindsey looks up at Kelley. “Don’t forget, I’m watching you.”

“Got it.”

“She doesn’t mean it,” Sonnett says, and then, when Kelley gives her a disbelieving look, clarifies. “I mean, she does mean it. But she probably won’t follow through.”

“Good to hear,” Kelley says. Sonnett’s arms tighten.

“Besides,” she says conversationally, “I’m stronger than she is. I could probably stop her.”

“Thanks.”

“Anytime, Kelley.”

Ugh, she’s cute.


	4. fourth time's the charm?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hilary knight!!!! oh boy oh boy oh boy

Moe is smiling when she walks in. A dangerous smile. A very bad one, way too wide and kind of scary. A starstruck one. It's incredibly unnerving.

"Fuck," Kelley says, and tries to turn around and leave. Unfortunately, a hand claps down (very hard) on her shoulder and spins her back around.

"You must be Kelley O'Hara!"

The woman who (still) has a hand on her shoulder grins down at her. She's  _hot_ , dark hair spilling over her very muscular and very broad shoulders.

"Hi," Kelley chokes out.

"I'm Hilary. Hilary Knight. I rock with Sonnett."

_Fuck, again?_

"And, uh, why are you here?"

"To check you out," Hilary Knight says with a grin and a wink. Kelley goes a little red, but it's not her fault. Anyone who ever had to deal with Hilary Knight in a muscle tank- with all of her muscle definition on show- would do the same.

"Oh."

"Yeah, and I brought company. This is- Amanda! Ah, shit, where'd she go-" Hilary Knight (and Kelley's sure she recognises that name from somewhere, but  _where_?) snaps her fingers. "Christ, Kes can't stay still for shit. Sorry about that. So, what's up with you and Sonnett, hm?"

"Uh, nothing. We don't- I mean, she comes in here and flirts, sometimes."

"Okay. Are you guys, like-" Hilary makes a crude gesture and Kelley blushes.

"No! I mean, I don't really- like, I've met her maybe three times."

"Alright."  Hilary Knight gives her a long once-over. "I can see why she came back."

"Don't mind Hilary, she's a flirt," someone chimes in- a short blonde girl, also ridiculously attractive, clutching a Starbucks cup. "I would know."

"You would, hm?" Hilary says, bumping their hips together. "Kes, this is  _the_  Kelley O'Hara."

"Hi!" Kes sticks out her hand to shake. "I'm Amanda Kessel. Hilary's  _girlfriend_."

Hilary frowns. "Why'd you say it like that?"

"Sometimes I just feel like I have to remind you, that's all," Amanda teases.

Kelley can tell that they've been together for a while. It's there in the brushing of their pinkies, the way Hilary gently jostles Amanda, the way they lean into each other. Familiarity. It's nice.

"Not to be rude," she says, "but do I know you guys from somewhere?"

Hilary looks at her for a moment, and then practically honks with laughter. "Oh my God," she says. "Kes, tell her."

"Hil's an actress," Amanda says, grinning widely. "I'm a model. And stuntswoman, on the side."

Hilary strikes a pose- both hands on her hips, proud and regal. Kelley squints, and then, all at once, it hits her.

"Oh my God, you're Captain Marvel," she breathes, suddenly recalling the posters outside her house and the face plastered all over the Internet. "Hilary Knight-  _oh_. And you- I saw you on the Cosmo cover like a month ago! Oh my God. Why are you in my shop?"

"I told you, we're friends of Sonnett. We've heard quite a bit about you." Amanda  _Kessel, fuck,_  smiles at her easily. "We just came over to meet you. And Knighter wanted to intimidate you, so she wore her muscle shirt."

"Intimidation successful," Kelley says. "Dude, what's your routine?"

"You're not too bad yourself," Hilary  _fucking_ Knight says, actually reaching out to touch Kelley's bicep. "Here's my phone. Put your number in. I'll text you all the juicy stuff."

Kelley obliges in a starstruck daze. Amanda looks on in amusement.

"Okay, we'd better get going before the press gets wind that we're still in Portland," she says. "Nice to meet you, Kelley. Be good to Sonnett, or we'll sic the paps on you."

"We're not dating," Kelley feels the need to clarify. "You know that, right?"

"Right," Hilary croons. "But baby Sonnett, and her first foray into this wide wide world- she needs someone looking out for her, don't you know?"

Kelley blinks. "I- what?"

"She's really good with her fingers," Hilary informs her cheerfully, which immediately sends thoughts spiralling through Kelley's brain which are  _definitely_ inappropriate for the workplace.

"How do you know that?" Amanda asks, mock-suspicious.

"Oh, reasons," Hilary drawls. Amanda hip-checks her, and then smiles cheerfully at Kelley.

"Okay, let's go. Bye, Kelley!"

"Bye," Kelley echoes.

"Hey, do you think we could make out in the airport bathroom?" Hilary asks on the way out, and Kelley can't see her but she's  _sure_  that Amanda rolls her eyes.

"Holy  _shit_ ," Moe says after a pause. "What the fuck? Fuck! That was- Kelley, I see those people in magazines. Do you know how many Insta followers they have between them? Like, millions.  _Fuck_."

"Fuck," Kelley agrees.

"I got their autographs," Moe says. "Jesus. I mean, Hilary Knight and Amanda Kessel. They just. Walk into the shop. Am I gay, Kelley? I've never felt so attracted to women."

"You're having your gay panic now? You work with me and Alex and Tobin. We're super hot. Not to mention  _Christen_."

"Yeah, but Alex is a prick and the rest are taken."

"Alex  _is_ a prick," Kelley says agreeably, until the rest of the sentence hits her. "What do you mean, I'm taken?"

"Sonnett," Moe says with a 'duh' motion, rolling her eyes. "And those two- I mean, they're gorgeous and funny and nice and famous. Like, what the fuck. Life isn't fair."

Kelley blinks. "I'm taken- by Sonnett?"

"Yes, dumbass. When was the last time you got laid?"

Kelley thinks. "Uh-"

"Nevermind, don't answer that, you'll give me anxiety."

"Honestly, this whole situation is giving me anxiety."

Moe gives her a quick once-over. "I think you guys just need to bone."

"Thanks, Moe."

"Anytime."

 

The more she thinks about it, the better it seems. Sonnett's cute, and funny, and apparently very popular with celebrities. And she likes Kelley, which is- well, very good for her ego. Maybe a little too good, to be honest.

So why not?

 

Kelley takes the night shift without even so much as complaining this time around. She has some questions that need answers, and she's curious enough that she takes Alex's ribbing with minimal violence.

And Sonnett doesn't show.

Not even a trace of her. Kelley goes home at one AM disappointed and tired, ignoring Moe's look of pity, which is  _bullshit_. Moe doesn't have the right to feel bad for her. Moe sucks.

 

But the next night, she does.

Wasted, as usual. Smiling, also as usual. Draped across Tall One (Sam, her name is Sam), Lindsey glaring daggers and Rose chipper and encouraging. As usual.

"You didn't show last night," Kelley says, and maybe she doesn't hide the undercurrent of hurt well enough, because Sonnett's face goes frowny. And this is a  _thing_ , right? This is their thing. Sonnett didn't show up, drunk off her ass and cursing like a trucker, and that had the audacity to make Kelley feel bad.

"I'm sorry," Sonnett mumbles, quiet but sincere. "I had stuff."

"It's okay. I don't- I mean, this isn't a thing. Right?"

"No," Sonnett says, suddenly and fiercely, gripping Kelley's wrist so tight she can feel her own heartbeat. "No, it is. It's a thing."

"Oh," Kelley says, and breathes out. "Okay."

Sonnett grins. "So, uh. Any more thoughts about that tattoo on my butt?"

And they're good again.

**Author's Note:**

> @dreamof1698 on tumblr. hmu!


End file.
